


Tranquility

by ApostateRevolutionary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Post-Game, and one extremely vague rape implication, contains some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/ApostateRevolutionary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Kirkwall, the Templars manage to separate Anders and Hawke while they're on the run. Anders is taken in to be made Tranquil, but things do not go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquility

His escort was silent as they ushered him down a passage of endless stone walls. The only sounds Anders could hear were his chains clattering against the ground behind them, and the clanging of his captors’ armour. The Templars were half-dragging, half-carrying him down the long hallway. He didn’t know where he was, but he assumed it used to house a Circle. They all had the same oppressive feeling in the walls. And since the mages had started rebelling, the Templars likely used them as bases for their forces. They probably doubled as prisons too, not that it was anything new.

Anders coughed, a wet hacking sound, and his chest throbbed sharply. A small amount of blood sprayed from his mouth. He knew his injuries were extensive, but since he was Silenced he couldn’t fully sense how serious they were, nor could he heal them. His whole body ached, and he couldn’t stand up on his own. He could hardly see out of one of his eyes, and his lips were split and bruised. Part of him hoped his wounds were bad enough for him bleed out before they could finish this. It’d be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

He didn’t want to think about it, but he knew why he was here. There were two possible fates for him in the hands of Templars, and since he wasn’t dead, that left only one option. His stomach dropped and he tasted bile at the back of his throat. Anders was terrified, but he vowed not to let it show. He was going to be strong to the end. He wouldn’t scream, cry, or beg. He wasn’t going to give those bastards the satisfaction. It was the last thing he’d ever be able to choose to do.

“So this is the one that blew up that Chantry, huh? What a piece of work…” one of his captors said. He was still wearing his helmet so Anders couldn’t see any of his features, but the muffled voice alone was enough to remind him of some of the particularly unpleasant Templars the mage had encountered over the years.

“Yes. That’s why they wanted him alive, if possible. We’re to make an example of him.” another said from behind him, her voice carrying authority.

Anger flared inside him, and he let it burn. Of course. Why else would they bother taking him alive? He hadn’t made it easy, and they knew him as ‘a dangerous abomination’. They’d waited until Hawke had gone into town for supplies, and then hounded Anders for days to keep them separated. A small group would attack, and he’d kill them. Always cautious, he’d tried to make sure he wasn’t followed afterwards, but every time he stopped to rest, another group would come. It had gone on for days. Justice had taken over once he was too exhausted to keep fighting, but he didn’t know how long that’d lasted. Eventually, somehow, Justice had been forced back, and Anders was suddenly in control again, facing down a large force of Templars with no reserves left. He had no idea how they’d done it, but he had a vague memory of a scroll. He’d never heard of one, but it wouldn’t surprise him if there was some forgotten litany that had the power to bind Fade spirits. Even then, he’d refused to turn to blood magic, so it wasn’t long before they got close enough to subdue him. All he had been able to do at that point was bite and kick, which he certainly did. If he recalled correctly, he’d given the chatty one a good hit right before they shackled him and knocked him out.

“Pah! Not like we couldn’t if we’d just killed him. Parade his head around, or something.” the Templar muttered.

“We have our orders, Ser Colten. We’re carrying them out.” replied the voice behind them.

The Templar helping Colten drag him grunted in agreement, and they continued the walk in heavy silence. Anders wondered if Hawke had faced the same unrelenting assault, but he doubted it. This was punishment for what he did, not Hawke, and the title of Champion still carried some weight. Besides, it wasn’t as if the Champion of Kirkwall couldn’t handle Templars, especially given the advantage of not being a mage. Hawke was probably fine, but worried. He chased that thought away. He didn’t want to think about his lover searching for him, terrified as to what could have happened, and getting reckless. Hopefully he’d still have enough of himself after this to send a message telling Hawke he was okay, even if he wasn’t. It was doubtful, but he needed something to hold on to.

The Templars’ halting stopped his train of thought. He lifted his head and saw the leader had moved in front of them and was now unlocking a large door. Anders’ felt his pulse quicken as panic stabbed through him. This was really happening. They were going to make him Tranquil. His stomach rolled at the thought, and if he’d been standing his knees probably would have buckled. He coughed again, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to vomit.

Everything inside of him was screaming to run, to fight, to do something, but he didn’t have the strength to stand, let alone resist. Even Justice’s presence was weaker than normal, only appearing on the edges of his thoughts despite his terror. That was probably an after-effect of whatever they’d done to force the spirit back. Limp, Anders was guided to a long wooden table. He fought the urge to shut his eyes as they lifted him onto it, his weak struggles virtually ignored. The mage was slammed down hard, his head spinning as he tried to catch his breath. They freed one of his hands, and he immediately tried to pull it away, only to have it yanked above his head and locked into the manacles attached to the table. They did the same with his other arm, and then his feet. As they released his second foot, he managed to kick Colten, who’d stupidly removed his helmet, straight in the nose. Even though it didn’t have much force behind it, Colten still withdrew before the leader snatched his ankle back and snapped the shackles in place around it. She wasn’t wearing a helmet either, but was too quick for him to hit.

Anders feebly strained against the bonds. They were solid, and enchanted just like the previous restraints to drain his mana. His heart raced, the beats pounding frantically in his head. He barely noticed as Colten moved to stand beside him and slapped him hard across the face. Anders’ head cracked against the table as his vision swam. He slowly brought it back to centre, working his jaw. Not broken. Then he turned to face his assailant. He was not going to let them see his fear.

“What, is that the best you’ve got? I’ve been hit harder by kittens.” said Anders, barely managing to keep his voice level.

Colten seethed, but didn’t strike him again. Instead he leaned in close enough that Anders could smell his sour breath. In any other situation, the mage may have once considered the man comely, but the hard cruelty etched in the lines of his face spoke volumes.

“You stupid mage. You think you’re so tough, don’t you? And now you’re completely helpless. You’re not getting out of it this time, and your precious Champion won’t be coming to save you.” Colten paused to lick his lips, as Anders swallowed his rage at the mention of Hawke. “You’re going to be ours very soon, unable to do anything except what we tell you. I can’t wait to see you Tranquil. Then, for all your rebellion, I can do whatever I want to you.”

The implication was not lost on Anders. Anger and fear flashed through him in equal measure. Justice stirred slightly in the back of his mind. He tensed his muscles so they wouldn’t see him shaking, ignoring the agony lancing through his limbs and the manacles cutting into his flesh. Not trusting his voice, he looked at Colten and spat directly in his eye. The Templar recoiled, causing Anders to smirk slightly, and moved to hit him again before the leader ordered him to stand back with the third Templar.

She was still looking at Colten as she started to speak. “Now if you’re done with the theatrics,” she turned to Anders now, “I’d like to get on with this. Usually there’s a ritual before a mage is made Tranquil, but it was decided you’re too dangerous to risk it on. You should consider yourself lucky we didn’t just kill you.”

_Yeah, I’d consider death a far kinder fate than what you have in store for me._ Anders thought, unable to speak. He felt paralyzed. All he wanted to do was scream, but instead he gritted his teeth and hoped that would be enough to hold him firm.

The Templar that’d remained silent until now handed her a long box. She carefully opened it and pulled out what he recognized as the brand he’d feared for so long. He could smell the lyrium on it. Suddenly, Justice’s surge against his senses was stronger. He tried to calm the spirit, insisting there was nothing either of them could do. It was too late.

Moving his tousled hair out of the way, she positioned the brand right above his forehead. All he could do was stare with widened eyes, unable to look away from the intense blue glow of the lyrium.

“As a Knight-Captain of the Templar Order, I hereby invoke the Right of Tranquility. Consider this justice for your crimes, murderer.”

Time slowed as she finished her speech, and lowered the brand. Anders could feel Justice fighting him. Resigned to his fate, he wanted his last true thoughts to be his own, not the spirits. He thought of Hawke, of every kiss, of the good times before everything that had happened. But just before the brand made contact, he knew he’d lost as Justice forced him into the too-familiar darkness.

* * *

The mages eyes flashed blue just before the brand made contact. Immediately after it was done, a burst of power coursed through the room, the shockwave knocking the Templars off their feet. The first to regain her balance, the Knight-Captain stared in shock at the sight before her. The abomination had broken his bonds and was on his feet, blue light crackling through his skin. Black-blue smoke billowed around him, leaking out through the cracks. He stood in a fighting pose as if his injuries had suddenly disappeared, his lips curled back in a feral snarl. But, most frightening of all, magic danced on his fingertips despite the sun-shaped brand on his forehead. Maker’s breath, what was happening?

“YOU KNOW NOTHING OF JUSTICE!” The creature before her roared. “THIS MAGE IS FREE! YOU WILL NOT HAVE HIM!”

“Knight-Captain… The Litany…” one of the other Templars groaned from the ground, somewhere to her left.

Snapping out of her shock too late, she fumbled to grab the paper from her belt. Another blast forced her onto her back again, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Struggling to breath, she grasped the scroll as the abomination stood directly above her. He looked down at her with glowing, soulless eyes. She could smell the Fade all around her. She’d fought abominations and demons before, but had never seen anything like this. Frozen in her panic, she watched him gather a ball of fire between his hands.

He released it on the others with only the slightest of glances, their screams echoing through the room as they burned. The abomination then turned back to her, bent down, and grabbed her throat. She struggled feebly, choking, as he hauled her up. Dangling in his grasp, her vision began to blur as she weakly clawed at the hand around her throat. With his other hand, he pulled the sword from her belt, and infused it with fire. Thrusting it straight through her armor, the flames melting the metal like butter, he then widened the wound with a twist of his wrist. The Knight-Captain stared down in horror and disbelief until he released her. She landed in a heap on the ground, staring at the sword still sticking out from where he’d run her through. Coughing repeatedly, finally able to breathe, she could feel the blood pouring out faster with each one. Consciousness slipping, she locked eyes with the abomination. He just stood there, emotionless, and watched her bleed out

* * *

Anders fell to his knees as he regained control. His body ached from head to toe, and he didn’t know where he was. Kneeling, the mage looked around and found himself in a small clearing in a thick forest. He desperately tried to recall what happened, remembering only fear laced with rage. There were… Templars. Yes, Templars. And they had captured him. They were going to…

His mouth went dry and his heart dropped. Tranquil. He was to be made Tranquil. Tears welled up in his eyes. The terror was too recent, too raw.

But how had he escaped? It had been too late, hadn’t it? Gingerly, he reached up to feel his forehead and jerked his fingers back upon finding the fresh brand. He hadn’t escaped, not in time at least. Yet he was still himself. The tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks.

“It didn’t work…” Anders found himself whispering. “I’m still me… and I can still feel.”

He sagged and collapsed onto his back as the wave of relief crashed through him. It didn’t work! The sobs forcing their way out turned to laughter, though the tears kept flowing. The worst thing they could do to him had already been done, and it had failed. He was free. Sure, he had been free before, but this was different. He’d always accepted that he might be killed, but being made Tranquil terrified him infinitely more than death. And now he needn’t fear it any longer. Justice had saved him from that fate. There was sudden pang of guilt for all the times he’d wished to be free of the spirit, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down now. Anders felt lighter than air.

He stopped laughing with a wince as he noticed the throbbing in his ribcage. He probably should’ve tended to his injuries before celebrating. Calling the magic to his fingers, the mage grinned like a child that he still could. Most of them had closed up by now, but still needed tending to speed up the healing. Fortunately, his wounds felt worse than they were.

As Anders finished treating himself, he heard a strange call that was out of place. It sounded like a bird, but the song belonged to a type that was only found in Ferelden. Wait, was he in Ferelden? No, it was too warm for this time of year. Besides, Justice surely hadn’t been in control long enough for him to travel that far. Then he remembered it was the song he and Hawke had decided to use so that they could find each other when it was too dangerous for them to be heard calling each other’s names. Hawke was close then, thank the Maker.

Hair still out of its usual ponytail given his previous predicament, he pushed the locks in front of his face to cover the brand. No need to panic his lover before he had a chance to explain himself. Standing carefully, not nearly as sore as before, Anders returned the song, eager to be reunited and to tell Hawke the good news.


End file.
